


The Haunting of Sky House

by Juneau024



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, The Haunting of Hill House - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Family, Friendship, Ghosts, Haunted House, Horror, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24765397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juneau024/pseuds/Juneau024
Summary: 'Once again, Rey opened the bestselling horror novel of Ben Solo, her favorite author, and read the words. Whispering under her breath, she said, “Silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Sky House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.” It was her favorite line. Though she wasn’t a Skywalker, no words had ever captured how she felt, no matter which city she found herself in.“You’re not alone,” Ben said. He must have been standing there for a while.“Neither are you,” she replied. '(The Skywalker Family X Haunting of Hill House). Can the Rey, her friends and Skywalkers break the intergenerational curse cast upon them by a certain demon?
Relationships: Finnpoe, Hanleia - Relationship, Reylo, Stormpilot - Relationship, anidala - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	The Haunting of Sky House

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Some phrases are from The Star Wars movies, the Netflix series of Haunting of Hill House, and the book called the Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson. Writing this because I love these stories... and I'm bored in quarantine. And I want to gain a following before writing original stories. 
> 
> I'm interested in horror, but better at fantasy and drama. 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: juneauthewriter

“No live organism continues to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality,” Rey reads to herself. “Even larks and katydids are supposed by some to dream. Sky House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills holding darkness within. It had stood so for a hundred years, before Anakin Skywalker, my grandfather, first moved in and might stand a hundred more…  
  
“Silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Sky House. And whatever walked there walked alone,” she finished. Rey closed the novel. It was battered on its hardcover corners, the pages yellow from poor storage. Its spine must have had fifty creases. Rey brought this book everywhere, drifting from one city to the next, unsure of why it called to her so much.  
  
One day, fate had brought her there, to Naboo City, home of that big old mansion looming menacingly at the center of her copy of “The Haunting of Sky House”. Rey couldn’t believe her eyes when the inter-city bus she rode on passed the sign: “Naboo City. 700m.” The young woman pressed her nose onto the glass, now wide awake and pleasantly surprised.  
  
Rey had had the book since she was a gawky prepubescent girl cleaning up beer cans and moldy pizza boxes back in Plutt’s house. She would read it in between her chores as a kid, in between shifts as a waitress in her teens, and now in between dodging people she had made enemies of in the streets, people she had fooled with yet another one of her cons. The white lines on the road merged into a long white streak. Did the bus speed up? Her heart raced. Then sunlight of the road was cut off by he sudden presence of a tunnel, boring into the mountainside. Her ears were clogged by the change in air pressure, while the rest of her lower bowels remained probably at the foot of the mountain city.  
  
Daylight and the bright city. Rey smiled. It was just like the book had described, as if godly architects floated down, built their summer homes, filling the valley, creating an illusion of light colored stair cases on each hillside. A modest sized city in the sky. But Rey looked for one thing, and it didn’t take long for her to find it. There it was: a dark irregular shape resting on the furthest mountain from the city, rising regally above the soft greens of the pine forest.  
  
“Sky House,” Rey whispered. Like a gleeful child she brought the cover of the novel next to the real thing. She felt like a daydream had climbed out of reality. Rey was never afraid of Sky House, despite its horrifying tales. For her, Sky House was where a family once lived and loved each other furiously. But beyond that, Rey felt something deeper, an old sliver of something familiar beckoning from a hidden chamber in her heart, an old room elusive to memory. A hanging cloud of déjà vu. A nagging voice in her head, shouting from her past.  
  
Palm to the window, fixing her eyes stubbornly on Sky House even as the bus rounded and turned and stopped, she said, “I’m home.” 

  


&&&

Something was wrong with this house, Padme warned them. Anakin had reassured her that it wasn’t the case. But she would just pull away. They had never been so distant to one another Luke was caught between his obsession of following his father’s footsteps and his concern over his father’s deteriorating mental health. Leia was busy focusing on her pregnancy, and all the pains and mood swings that came with it, While Uncle Obi, who visited the Skywalker family often, had felt suspicion over whatever Anakin was doing, but opted to give his best friend the benefit of the doubt.  
  
But Han Solo did not give a flying fuck. The Skywalkers were a strange bunch. He had known that ever since someone like him wandered into Naboo. Their patriarch was Anakin Skywalker, who had acquired a vast amount of wealth and the deed to what he now called Sky House—all under mysterious circumstances. Anakin was a poor kid, a drifter like Han, who found himself in a town that met their tattered clothes and the car they slept in with narrowed eyes. That Han related to. But Anakin was also the town’s esoteric consultant, and so was his wife, and so were his kids. They sold potions, crystals, read palms—all the spiritual mumbo jumbo Han sneered at. And Han was never a fan of anything he could not understand, that is, anything that wasn’t under the hood of a car. But they did have a pretty daughter, whom he met when he took a job to make repairs around the house.  
  
It all happened real fast from there. It was a month of a whirlwind romance, with lots of joy rides and scaling up the walls of Sky House and far too many bottles of alcohol. Then Leia got pregnant, and before Anakin could gut him alive Padme suggested that they marry. Before Han knew it, he would be watching sports in his oil-stained overalls, with the volume turned all the way down in a room that looked a lot like Buckingham Palace, and the Sistine Chapel and wherever Sherlock Holmes lived, while the Skywalkers took in clients. Telling their futures and contacting dead spouses and all that. In spite of the regular oddities that wound themselves into the daily life of those who lived in Sky House, Han liked the place. And more importantly, Han loved Leia more than anything. And Luke… Luke was alright, except for his incessant questions about what does this button do, what does that lever do.  
  
And their baby, little Solo—Han wanted to believe his kid had a good life. No matter what the omens say… Not that he believed in those.  
“Han!” Leia squealed when her husband embraced her from behind. Han distracted himself from fears over his son by covering Leia’s cheek with kisses.  
Han had his hands on her belly. And though he never bought any of Anakin’s lectures on energy healing, he felt something. A little life beating steadily in Leia’s womb. “I want to feel him kick and punch.”  
  
Leia adjusted herself in Han’s arms so they would be chest to chest. Their faces were so close that they felt the radiating warmth of how their cheeks blushed. Then Han noticed the tiredness in Leia’s eyes, “He’s a fighter alright.”  
  
“He,” Han repeated.  
  
Leia smiled down at her swollen mound underneath her flowing white dress, “You know my cards never lie. Not even dad bests me at cartomancy.”  
Han would watch her read tarot and oracle cards. Leia was a precise woman, and cartomancy often revealed the most uncanny details. Luke on the other hand, her more impatient twin, found patterns in the stars and in scrying more exciting. Han still hadn’t decided what to believe, but he knew he trusted Leia. Han smiled, imagining a little boy with his face and Leia’s eyes or her face and his dashing hair. “Bet he’ll be a lover too, what with my dashing good looks,” Han said seductively. “And everything about his life will be good.”  
  
At that, Leia opened and closed her mouth, but shook herself out of a worried expression. She then glanced at one of the four doors on one side of the living room, the room where she read clients. “Han, not now.”  
  
Han cocked his head to one side. Had Leia foretold something else about their son?  
  
“Please, not now,” Luke chimed in.  
  
The couple jumped apart.  
  
“Get a girlfriend, kiddo!”  
  
“Get a room, Han!” Luke whined. His brother-in-law had a knack or walking in on the couple during the worst situations.  
  
“Hey, Solo, roof’s still leaking,” Anakin said out of nowhere, tossing Han a key ring with about fifty-seven keys.  
  
They all stood to attention. Han caught the keys with shaking hands. Anakin had the quietest footsteps when he was moving around the house but commanded respect the moment he entered a room. Only Anakin could put a damper on Han’s sarcasm.  
  
Han recalled fixing it this morning before he left for work. “I think it’s all good, sir.”  
  
“Check again,” Anakin said, beckoning at the room that led to a set of spiral staircases heading to the top floor.  
  
“But—“  
  
“You knocked up my daughter, Solo. It’s the least you can do,” Anakin said, chuckling darkly. He had developed a weird sense of humor ever since Leia got pregnant, and ever since he decked Han in the face. One moment of catharsis was all he needed.  
  
“Dad!” The twins exclaimed.  
  
“Client’s waiting, my love,” Anakin told Leia. He was often gentle and protective of his daughter.  
  
“Yes, father.”  
  
Anakin’s eyes lingered on Leia’s pregnant belly. His face gave away concern, then, resolve. But he said nothing.  
  
“Dad I have a question about dreams. You’re the best Oneiromancer and—“  
  
Anakin had a close relationship with Luke. But lately it was all pats on Luke’s head and the words, “Next time, son.”  
  
Luke’s shoulders deflated. He masked his disappointment with obedience.  
  
Then Anakin glided into another room, knowing Han could never retort once he played the you-knocked-up-Leia-card. Still, while Anakin was always his confident, regal self, even a dense person like Han got a hint that something was off. The Skywalker patriarch seemed tired… drained even.  
  
Leia wasn’t in the mood to mediate. Instead she gave Han a look and squeezed his arm, “I’ll talk to you later,” she said, before disappearing into a room. Han heard a muffled sound of high-pitched voices greeting one another.  
  
Han plopped himself back on the couch and tossed Luke a can of beer. The kid was still moping over his dad’s neglect. Luke thanked him and Han heard the hiss of a can popping open. Then Luke gave him an expectant look.  
  
Han rolled his eyes, “Fine.” He switched the channel from sports to some documentary about Einstein and black holes. Luke grinned, sitting closer to his brother-in-law to nerd out about time and relativity.  
  
“It’s just so cool. Like time… think about the implications if it weren’t linear and—“ Luke rambled.  
  
Externally, Han was exasperated but really he could sit and listen to Luke for hours, feeling the kid’s enthusiasm bounce off the walls and floors. It was like Han had a younger brother. Han barely understood any of it, unless Luke started talking about tech. That was Han’s language, and, strange as Luke and his family was, he often found intersections between them. Invisible cords, thin but firm and stubborn, connecting them all in one discreet little web. All they had to do was tug, and the other would turn, and smile, and go on about their day. To Han, Sky House had all kinds of weird, but also love and family and the promise of a life with the woman he loved.  
  
Then shit hit the fan. And finally, finally, Han Solo believed in the supernatural.  
  
“Hey, mom,” Luke greeted. Padme, surprisingly wasn’t with a client. She came from, wherever she usually sat quietly to mix herbs and jot down notes of their properties.  
  
“Evening, children,” Padme said. If Anakin’s presence demanded respect and obedience, Padme was there to level out the tension with her warm motherly disposition. Her job was to mix potions and read tea leaves, and she loved her plants so much flowers were often tied into her long faded locks of light brown and gray hair. Like Leia’s her dresses were also long and thin, making the Skywalker women look like beautiful wraiths. Leia looked a lot like her, except Leia’s face had the harshness of Anakin’s scowls.  
  
“Hiya, mom. Dad won’t tell me about dream divination again,” Luke complained. He had been curious about it lately, but Han suspected it was a ruse to grow closer to his father again.  
  
“Hey, Padme.”  
  
But again, another thing was off about the Skywalker matriarch as well. Her eyes gave away the same level of resolve Anakin had that night. But Han’s old streetwise gut told him they were decided on two different things.  
  
Padme’s scanned the room. “Now where’s my princess?”  
  
Luke jabbed a thumb at one of the doors behind him, “Doing a reading.”  
  
Padme wrung her hands as she glanced at the clock. “Of course. No worries, she’ll catch on.”  
  
“To what?” Han asked.  
  
Padme only smiled, but her eyes shot him a warning stare before glancing at the hall to Anakin’s workspace. “I need help with the garden, dears. Come, I already boiled tea.”  
  
Han shut off the television and started to follow Padme, who was his favorite in-law. She may have been Leia’s only relative who was completely kind to him.  
  
“Hey!” Luke complained.  
  
“Darling, it may be time.“ Padme whispered the latter half of the sentence. And she left.  
  
Luke had a moment where he stared into the black of the screen. Kid had a thing with mirrors. He blinked in disbelief, first at the screen, then at the trail of his mother’s floral dress leaving the room. And then, begrudgingly, he followed.  
  
Before they knew it, they were following her into the greenhouse, a few yards away from the mansion, just before you reached the woods. That night was a full moon, and as far as Han knew, this not only made the Skywalkers powerful, but also every other thing, entity, watcha-ma-call-it around them.  
  
It seemed a little out of character, but one of Han’s favorite places in the Skywalker estate was Padme’s garden. It was filled with so much vegetation that Han could barely make out the walls. There were plants with triangular green leaves hanging from the ceiling. Crawling plants dominated the walls, and sprouted outward and towards the room’s center, a burst of flowers. There was only one entrance and a foot-wide cobblestone path that led to a clearing in the center. The rest were pots and flower beds, and above was the light of the moon.  
  
Padme would often invite Han for tea and poker. She would ask him about his life, mostly to make him feel welcome in her home. Not once did she play the you-knocked-up-Leia card like Anakin. It was here that Han found out just what kind of person could keep Anakin Skywalker grounded, someone kind but firm in her convictions, someone mild-mannered but willing to speak the truth if needed. Luke and Leia would hang around, harvesting herbs for their purposes. Anakin spent the most time in the garden of course, though not recently.  
  
For a while the three of them sat silently. Luke continuously drank tea out of nervousness. Padme stirred her cup clockwise for positivity, but she stirred it for minutes, as if she were trying to cleanse the world of all evil. And Han watched them with crossed arms and his usual dumbfounded expression.  
  
Minutes later Leia came in, with the same troubled expression. She met her mother’s eyes, while Luke looked away, “Mother, no…”  
  
“Skywalkers,” a voice said. It was Uncle Obi Wan. He often traveled around the world. Swam in the islands of the southeast, meditating with monks in the mountain regions. The one other place he called home was Sky House.  
  
“Uncle Obi!” Luke and Leia rushed to hug him.  
  
Han shook his hand. “Didn’t think we’d see you until Christmas, Obi. How’ve ya been?”  
  
Obi Wan had kissed Padme’s hand in greeting. “Would have liked to be better. Oh, Leia, you’re more far along than expected.” He turned to Padme. “We must hurry then. Have you been here long?”  
  
“Not long enough for him to notice,” Padme replied.  
  
“This is ridiculous, we should just talk to him about it. He needs our help!” Luke beginning to raise his voice.  
  
“Luke,” Padme flared. Han never saw her like this. “I have tried everything. Everything. We all saw it. Leia’s tarot, your scrying, the tea leaves. Even your Uncle Obi saw it in a dream.”  
  
Uncle Obi nodded solemnly, “It’s true, children. We must act at once. Padme, on your wedding day I had promised Anakin I would protect his family. It never occurred to me that I was to protect it from him.”  
  
“Whoa, hold on a second—“ Han tried to interrupt. But their voices drowned him out. They spoke a language only he could not understand.  
  
Leia shook her head. “Dad wouldn’t actually hurt his grandson, would he?”  
  
That was it. Someone had mentioned Han’s future son. “Can someone please explain to me why my son is in danger?” He asked, perhaps a little too loud. The moment Han found out that Leia had been pregnant, he had questioned his worthiness in becoming a father. His constant worry, coupled with the Skywalkers’ omen after omen about his baby boy had reached a boiling point. “Look, I’m no believer. Maybe. Whatever, I just want our son to grow up well adjusted. I want a life for him. I want to teach him to drive, and send him to college. I want his preteen moodiness to slam a door in my face. I want him to talk about girl—or boy—problems. And to work summer jobs and be happy. And not live the life I did so please. Just… lay it on me.”  
  
Luke looked to Obi who looked to Padme, who finally nodded to her daughter.  
  
Leia took both Han’s hands and said, “Han, for the longest time, our family has been followed by some unnamable evil. Luke and I sensed it when we were kids, Uncle Obi had sensed it he walked in here, and mom had sense a bit of it from the beginning.”  
  
Padme’s eyes drooped, “I refused to see it. Forgive me.”  
  
Han, not knowing myth from reality, decided to trust his wife anyway, “Okay, so some demon has some weird curse on the Skywalkers… so what do we… do we throw some salt around or…what does it want with my kid?”  
  
“Son, when Anakin was a young man, he, Padme and I had banished an evil spirit that had plagued him since he was an infant,” Obi explained. “I thought it was gone. I was wrong. Instead it had latched onto him, and Anakin had welcomed its power.”  
  
“It’s a parasite. It knows just how powerful Dad is,” Leia hissed, warming her belly with her hands.  
  
“Who is it? What does it want?” Han asked. He remembered all those times Leia said she thought she was being watched. He brushed it off as a form of the many Skywalker oddities. But somewhere deep down perhaps he had felt it too.  
  
Obi, old and wise as he was, bowed his head. “I don’t know much. All I know is it calls itself Palpatine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed. Remember to follow me on tumblr: juneauthewriter. 
> 
> Stay safe yall, much love. No hate. I'm here to enjoy and produce content, and to learn how to write better. 
> 
> Also, on the off chance any of yall are gamers, let me know in the comments because I got a gaming channel too. I'll put the link on the endnotes in my next work. I play indie games from itch.io, some steam games and PS4.


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